Led Zeppelin Lullaby
by Aibohp
Summary: In which John sings his son to sleep.


A/n: Just a little fluffy stuff where John gets to be a father. After much searching for something that is just cute and sweet with John in it as a main character I have come to realize that a lot of the time he is either a dick... or raping everyone. And you know a little, "Sammy (or Dean), dad hurt me, make it all better is alright every once in a while but when every fic I find is basically John raping or molesting Dean I think there is a little problem. . So John gets to be fluffy and lovable for once. in this. Also I am slightly surprised that there seems to be so little emphasis on the song 'Ramble On' in some stories where Dean's taste in music is a big part of the plot. Correct me if I am wrong but didn't he state in one episode that one of his favorite songs was 'Ramble On'? I've read some fics where music ends up being something that is pretty special in the fic and never once has that song come up. Always 'Stairway to Heaven' or 'Highway to Hell' or something like that. So Both John and the song 'Ramble On' get a little love in this fic.

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><p>"Shhh, Sammy! You'll wake up dad!"<p>

"Why're we getting in bed with Dad?

"He's lonely."

"Really?"

"Yes, now shhh!"

That wakes John up before the dipping of his bed as two small bodies crawl up into it with him. But he doesn't move and just listens as his boys try to get comfortable in the bed with the limited room they have in it. He feels one warm, small back press against his side, tiny feet pressing into his thigh. A head rests on his arm and he smiles a little in the dark, curling his arm around the boy resting against him. A soft gasp and then absolute silence. He stays still until Dean lets out the breath he was holding. Then he feels his arm, getting sandwiched between Dean's and Sam's bodies.

"See," Dean whispers quietly, his breath ghosting over John's arm as he presses his cheek into it.

"Why is Daddy lonely, Dean?" Sam asks softly, pressing his little self against Dean's chest and John can feel Dean pulling him even closer.

"Because he just is, Sam," Dean mutters, burying his face in John's bicep. His face is a little damp and sticky but John doesn't mind. "Go to sleep, Sammy."

He feels Dean move a little, leaning over his arm and kissing Sam's forehead. And then everything is quiet for a little while. John is still awake, listening to Sammy's snuffly little snores. When Sam is good and asleep he feels Dean shift, twisting around until he is facing John. The man feels Dean's hand curl into his shirt and his face press into his shoulder and then his small body starts shaking. For a moment panic fills John's chest and it's hard to breath until that shaking turns into something he is more familiar with. The painfully familiar jerking of Dean's shoulders as he silently cries into his shirt doesn't make his heart hurt any less.

"Dean?" he whispers quietly, gently shaking his son to get his attention. The boy freezes and he feels Dean's head move until he is looking up at his father, green eyes puffy, red and wide. "Dean what's wrong?" John asks, sitting up a little and pulling Dean close to his side.

He feels a little sad when Dean lets himself get pulled close but he doesn't say anything. John remembers when his son would tell him anything. Now he's eight and clams up faster than anything John has ever seen, never says anything to him when it is bothering him anymore. He talks to Sammy. He'll see Dean snuggled up in some corner with his baby brother, chatting about something but he never knows what and he feels a bit guilty for not trying harder to figure out.

"Nothin's wrong," Dean mumbles against John's chest, draping his thin arm over his father's body and clinging to his shirt, face hidden.

"Come on, Dean. You can tell me if something is bothering you," he murmurs, lifting his hand and running it through the young man's now short hair. He turns his head and leans down, pressing his lips against Dean's temple and he feels a tremor run through the boy's body.

Dean is quiet for a little while before he just can't hold it back any more ands tarts to sniffle.

"I… I miss mom," he says, so quietly and sadly that it breaks John's heart.

"Oh Dean," John murmurs against the side of his boy's head as he scoops the boy up and pulls him into his lap.

As soon as he is there it is like four years have just melted away and Dean is his little boy again, his arms wrapped tightly around his father's neck and face buried in his shoulder as he quietly cries, doing everything in his power to keep silent so that he doesn't' wake up Sam. And John just holds him tightly as his small body tries to shake to pieces with the force it takes for him to hold in his sobs as he cries. His hand cups the back of Dean's head and he gently holds it against his shoulder, even if his shirt is now covered in snot and tears and sticking to his skin. John chuckles quietly.

"You never would stop crying for me. You mom used to laugh at me because I would hold you for the longest time, pacing through the house for hours trying to get you to sleep. But you would just hang onto me and wail," he chuckles softly, nuzzling the side of Dean's head with his nose. "Usually after the first thirty minutes to an hour your mom would get tired of it and take you away… All she'd have to do is hum a little bit and you'd be out like a light."

Dean's calmed down now, just sniffling against Jon's shoulder.

"When I asked her why you always fell asleep for her so fast she laughed and said that it was all about the music. Apparently," he smiles, "when you were still inside of her and you wouldn't settle down at night you'd quiet down if I reached out and rubbed her stomach and sang to you. She told me she just sang the same songs I did to get you to calm down then and you'd drift right off. She said that you'd probably fall asleep even faster if I sang them," he mutters with a snort.

Dean shuffles in John's arms for a moment until he's leaning back and looking at his father, head tilted.

"I didn't know you could sing," he says and John laughs quietly, reaching out and gently brushing away Dean's tears with his calloused fingers.

"Well I can," John states, smiling. His smile only gets bigger when Dean gets that look on his face, the one that says he wants to ask him something but is embarrassed. "Do you want me to sing for you Dean?" he asks, voice teasing gently.

"No!" Dean quickly says, face coloring as he crosses his arms over his chest and John just chuckles quietly. "You can't anyway! You'd wake up Sammy," he states, lying back down so that he is resting against John's chest again.

"I promise to be very quiet," John murmurs as he sits up a little more and wraps his arms around his firstborn.

"_Leaves are falling all around, it's time I was on my way. Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay. But now it's time for me to go. The autumn moon lights my way. For now I smell the rain and with it pain, and it's headed my way. Sometimes I grow so tired, but I know I've got one thing I got to do… Ramble on, and now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song. I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl, on my way. I've been this way ten years to the day, ramble on, gotta find the queen of all my dreams. Got no time for spreadin' roots, the time has come to be gone. And to' our health we drank a thousand times, it's time to ramble on…_"

John's voice is deep and a little rough and it rumbles in Dean's ears as he presses his head into his father's chest. Dean's eyes are closed and he's drifting off to sleep before John even has to sing the chorus again and the man chuckles quietly, nuzzling the top of Dean's head. It is unfortunate, though, that John didn't think to lie down before he did this because Dean is a notoriously light sleeper and every time he moves to try and lay back down the boy whimpers and starts to wake up again.

In the end he just reaches out, pulls Sam closer, and sleeps sitting with his back against the head board. Even though he is probably going to wake up with his back aching he thinks that it is worth it. It's nice, holding his boys like this, one of the few bright spots for John in a world that he has discovered is full of darkness. He hums softly, resting his cheek on Dean's head and stroking his hand through Sam's hair.

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><p>Fin<p> 


End file.
